A/N: Five reviews? Awe, you guys spoil me so much.

Wyatt: Oh, you know they just read this to hear more about me, right?

*sputters* No! They like my writing...right?

Wyatt: Whatever helps you sleep at night.

Y-oh, I give up. Go eat a pie. Anyways, thanks for the helpful reviews! I noticed some of the things I put in the chapter went into Fanfiction... like the fancified french talk.

"Blah" English

"Blah" French

'Blah' thoughts

Blah memory

Now, onto the story!

Harry stared moodily down at his breakfast plate, stabbing sausages before eating them. Eustace and Roger knew better than engage in conversation when he was in one of his 'moods'. He had them every month, so Kohl liked to make cracks that he was secretly a woman and was on his monthly.

Harry was not amused.

So, naturally, when the girl the boys had deemed, "Frenchie", sat down across from him, they were very much alarmed that their friend might do something he might regret.

"Look," the veela beauty began, ignoring her sister's incessant chattering from next to her. "We got off on the wrong foot. I want to get to know the real Harry Potter, not the brother of the Boy Who Lived." Harry peered up from his plate and scowled at her.

"And why might that be, Miss Delacour?" he asked, still not completely sure that she had no ulterior motives. A faint blush tinged Fleur's cheeks, and Harry smirked knowingly, before returning to his moody scowl.

"Well," Fleur sputtered. "You... intrigued me, Mr. Potter. Not many people can resist the allure of a veela, and I think that, if I can get to know you, we can be good friends."

"Friends?" asked Harry skeptically, and Fleur nodded, albeit a little too enthusiastically. "Alright... but only if you call me Harry. Mr. Potter reminds me too much of my dad."

"Alright," Fleur agreed happily. "But you have to call me Fleur... and stop your friends from calling me 'Frenchie', it's sort of offensive."

"Ignore them," Harry advised. "They're just gits." He then returned to his meal, sitting in companionable silence. Roger and Eustace were gaping at Fleur as if she'd grown a second head, and Marie was looking questioningly at his best friend. Gabrielle was too busy gazing longingly at Benjamin Potter to notice anything.

It was going to be an interesting year.

"Well, class," barked the DADA teacher, Professor Moody. "Today, we will be learning how to fight off dementors, since it has befallen my ears that, last year, you were completely incompetent in warding them off." The old, paranoid, retired auror paused. "The incantation for the patronus charm is, 'Expecto Patronum', now, in order to produce more than white whisps, you need to concentrate on a memory as you do this, the happiest memory you have. Mr. Potter, I am aware that you received private tutoring on this spell, would you care to demonstrate?" Harry nodded, knowing that he really had no choice. He walked to the front of the room and let the memory engulf him.

A boy with chestnut brown hair and sparkling hazel eyes smiled brightly at his younger brother, adorned with auburn hair and mixmatched eyes, who was crying.

"Why are you crying, HJ?" he asked, tilting his head in childish concern. Harry sniffled.

"Mum and da' don't like me," he whimpered, sniffling. "They're too busy fawning over Benji." Harry felt very proud that he knew a word such as 'fawning', he'd been having his older brother teach him, so maybe he could impress his parents.

"Who cares about them?" scoffed Wyatt, smiling crookedly. "You're my favorite brother in the whole wide world, and I think you're pretty wicked." Harry let out a shaky smile.

"You're pretty wicked, too, Wy."

"Expecto Patronum!" Out of Harry's wand came a silvery white mist, before solidifying and becoming a rather large border collie, which promptly began loping around the room happily before Harry finished the spell.

"Excellent job, Mr. Potter," said Moody, gracing Harry with a rare smile. Harry personally thought smiling didn't suit Mad-Eye, as his face was simply too scarred to make him look anything but intimidating. It was like watching a decomposed puppy smile. Not a very pleasant sight. "Take five points for Ravenclaw. Now that you've seen an example, let's get to work!"

By the end of the class, not many had been able to produce more than white whisps, as they hadn't quite found their happiest memory. However, as it was a Slytherin-Ravenclaw class, Harry watched happily as Kohl produced his first full body patronus. It was a leopard. McKenna McKinnon, a pretty blond Ravenclaw in Harry's year, scowled at Kohl for besting her. It was well known that she was the top seventh year girl in academics, and number two out of the whole seventh year population, preceeded only Harry.

Kohl just pulled out his arrogant Slytherin, aristocratic smirk and winked at her, causing the girl to shriek in outrage. The two had had a budding feud since first year, when Kohl had 'accidentally' spilled pumpkin juice all over the overenthusiastic Ravenclaw, and it had progressed ever since.

When the bell rang, and the class was dismissed, Kohl practically bolted out of the room. He, after all, did not like being at the receiving end of McKenna's wand, who could take out any guy with a few well aimed stinging hexes.

Harry proceeded after his friend at a more relaxed pace, humming the tune of a muggle song to himself. So, he wasn't in the least surprised when Fleur caught up with him, having finished her own classes for the day, as well.

"What are you humming?" she asked, peering up at him curiously with her wide, baby blue eyes.

"It's a muggle song called, 'Hallelujah'," he replied, smiling. "I might sing it in English for you, sometime."

"I'd like that," said Fleur, smiling. "Now, onto business. Since we are now officially friends, I thought we could take some time to get to know each other. Y'know, just talk, that sort of thing." A small smile tugged at Harry's lips.

"Alright," he said. "But I may have to answer some questions in English. Can't have you getting rusty with your English skills, now can we?" Fleur shoved him in the shoulder in jest, rolling her eyes at his antics.

"Where do you propose we have our conversation?" asked Harry. "Because I have a suggestion." When Fleur raised her eyebrow had him, he lead her to the Room of Requirement, and inside was a cozy replica of the Ravenclaw Common Room. Harry lounged on his favorite fluffy chair, and Fleur situated herself on the blue couch.

"Alright," said Harry. "I shall start the interrogation." He cleared his throat. "What is your favorite color?" Fleur chuckled lightly before answering.

"Emerald green," she responded, a faint tinge to her cheeks. "And you?"

"I like chestnut brown," he responded happily. "It makes me feel warm and fuzzy on the inside. You're turn to ask a question."

"Favorite animal?" she asked. Harry thought over the question for a long time before answering.

"I think it'd have to be a lynx," he decided finally, nodding as if to assure himself that that was indeed the answer. "You?"

"I like Norwegian Forest Cats," said Fleur, scowling at Harry's outburst of laugher. "I know it's sort of random, but, hey, they're adorable." And so, they're conversation continued late into the night, each getting more comfortable with the other as they laughed and inquired many many things.

Harry told Fleur of his brother, and how devastated he was when Wyatt had died. Of Wyatt's dreams, and how he was going to play Quidditch professionally. He told her about his rather nonexistent relationship with his parents and all about his time at Hogwarts with his friends.

Fleur shared her own story. How, after puberty, it had been hard for her to make friends, as all the girls were worried that she'd steal their boyfriends. About Marie, who was more like a sister than a friend to her, and of her own little sister, Gabrielle, whom she loved dearly. She told him about her quest to prove to the world that she was more tan just a pretty face, and that she could do what not many had ever done before.

When they talked more in depth about her friends, Harry's humor emerged once more when she began ranting about how slobbishly his best friend, Kohl Malfoy, acted around her.

"Don't worry," Harry said solemnly. "I shalt do my very best to make sure you do not end up in the clutches of my friend. In fact, I'm pretty sure McKinnon's going to whack him over the head soon, the clueless bastard." Fleur giggled melodiously, and Harry shot her a slightly smirky smile, if it made any sense at all.

When curfew started to creep around the corner, Harry kindly took Fleur down to the kitchens for a late night snack and some hot chocolate, before finally escorting her back down to the Beauxbatons Carriage.

Maybe Fleur had finally found the one she'd always been looking for.

The days passed quickly in anticipation for the First Task, and Harry, though he knew that he should be rooting for his brother, found himself supporting his new friend, Fleur Delacour. Of course, his friends had teased him mercilessly when they'd found out about the budding friendship between the two, questioning Harry's motives, but he was adamant in stating that they were just friends.

Of course, he would be lying to himself if he said that he had no non-platonic feelings for the gorgeous French girl, but she was after all, more than just a pretty face. She was a strong, brave, young woman, and he admired her for her courage. The veela charm was just an added bonus. How could he not be attracted to her?

Over the time between the revealing of the Champions and the First Task, though, Harry found himself sought out by many of the witches within the walls of Hogwarts. It seemed, since everyone knew that there would be a Yule Ball would be a month after the first task, on Christmas, they simply had to start hunting for their dates.

Harry only had one girl in mind, though, but he hadn't quite had the courage to ask her, yet. It was rather amusing, though, to see Fleur shooting glares at all of the women who threw themselves at Harry - literally - though his supposed 'friends' absolutely loved to see him flustered and embarrassed, which was a rather unusual occurrence when it came to one Harry Potter.

Finally, the First Task was upon them, and, as Harry waited in the stands, looking down below, he groaned to himself inwardly. 'Dragons?! How in the name of Merlin's trousers is Benji going to get past a Dragon! I hope Fleur's okay, too, though.' The boy, though he might've not known it yet himself, was quite smitten with the girl, and wanted nothing more than to see her safe.

Cedric was the first to go, up against a Swedish Short-Snout. He transfigured a nearby rock into a labrador, successfully diverting the dragon's attention, before rushing to get to the egg. Unfortunately for him, the dragon caught sight of him just as he was leaving, and burnt him in the process of trying to get back its precious egg. Fleur then came out and Harry leaned forward in anticipation, ignoring the kissing noises his friends were making.

She, using her veela powers, put the dragon into a magically induced sleep, and then retrieved her egg before getting her clothes set on fire as the dragon woke up. Harry was immediately streaming down the Quidditch stands and to the medical tent, rushing to see whether or not she was alright. He didn't pay attention to his brother or Krum's performances, and did not hear the scores either. He was too busy making sure the healers double and triple checked both Fleur and Cedric for any other injuries before finally deeming them both safe.

"You know, Harry," said Fleur afterwards, when they were walking around the lake and chatting. "I am not some china doll waiting to be broken. I can take care of myself, you know."

"I know," said Harry sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck with his palm. "It's just, I can't stand watching my friends get hurt, and I was worried, y'know?" Fleur's expression softened and she smiled sweetly at Harry, peering up at him with her large, baby blue eyes.

"Oh, Harry," she said, leaning into his shoulder as they walked. "You know how to say all the right things without really needing to be told." Harry grinned at her, smirking slightly.

"Well, what can I say, I may not necessarily like my parents, but my dad's Potter charm sure did come in handy... I would have died if I were like Benji. He's completely clueless when it comes to girls." Fleur laughed melodiously at his statement, but internally, she was thinking:

'So, you say you aren't clueless when it comes to girls, and yet you haven't picked up on the fact that I fancy you yet?'

Harry picked up on the strangely pensive look on Fleur's face, but decided not to enquire about it. Fleur would tell him if she chose to.

Rule number one about talking to girls; you never pushed a subject that they didn't want to talk about, unless they were doing the whole reverse psychology thing where they acted like they didn't want to talk about it, but secretly wanted to talk about it. Girls were confusing creatures like that.

In the span of the next two weeks, leading up to the Yule Ball, Fleur managed to throw everything she could at the auburn haired boy who held her affections. Unfortunately for her, her veela charm didn't work on Harry, so she had to flirt the old fashioned way.

Harry, bless his soul, was quite confused on the mixed signals Fleur was sending. Sure, she was flirting with him, but he couldn't tell if it was playful banter or if she was actually being serious and wanted him to take her to the Yule Ball.

So, naturally, Harry did the only thing he saw fit, and decided he was going to find his inner Gryffindor and ask her.

He found the perfect moment when they were outside in the snow, making snow angles. It seemed childish, but with a war on the horizon, it seemed becoming that they take moments like this to be children for once.

"Hey, Fleur?" he asked in English, looking over to see his friend in all her beauty, silvery blond hair flying out behind her onto the snow, cheeks rosy pink and baby blue eyes alight with mirth.

"Oui?" she responded, smiling at him.

"I was wondering if you'd like to go to the Ball with me?" he asked, managing to keep composed, even if he was a nervous wreck on the inside.

"No." Her face was completely serious, and Harry began to splutter, muttering apologizes profusely. Fleur then cracked a grin and kissed Harry on the cheek.

"I would not like to go to ze dance with you, 'Arry Potter. I would love to go to ze dance with you." She shot him a teasing wink. "Peeck me up at ze carriage at 6:30. Don't be late!" And with that, she got up and sauntered away, hips swaying as she did so. Harry was staring open-mouthed at her.

"Merde. That woman will be the death of me."

Deep in the middle of the forbidden forest, a pale, morbid looking creature crept through the undergrowth, mouth open in suction similar to a dementor.

Around it; plants wilted, animals writhed on the ground before shriveling up and traveling on to the afterlife.

Nothing survived.

Another Author's Note:

Heeey guys... I'm terribly sorry it took me this long to update. Life got in the way for a while. Thanks for all the follows and favorites... though I *hope* some more of you will take the initiative to actually review. Good reviews give me more inspiration to write *wink*.

Wyatt: You have the subtly skills of an elephant parading through New York playing the banjo and singing 'Yellow Submarine'.

...I shan't even respond to that. Have a lovely rest of your day!

Wyatt: Don't tell them what to do.

*facepalm*